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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699695">Metal Seams and Fire Crackers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iztaca/pseuds/Iztaca'>Iztaca</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My backstories for rp purposes [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Demons, F/F, F/M, Miscarriage, Pyromania, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iztaca/pseuds/Iztaca</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yet another rp backstory developed solely for my rp purposes: this time with my version of Niffty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Niffty (Hazbin Hotel) &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My backstories for rp purposes [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Small blurb about Niffty before we dive into her full story. Mainly just a reminder to myself lol. </p><p>Her full name pre-death is Dorothy Elizabeth Miller. She died at the age of 30 from a fire set to the mental asylum building she had been residing in at the time. She was raised to be a perfect housewife, classy and feminine, but easily excitable and a tad bit childish. <br/>She was (mis)diagnosed with schizophrenia in her early 20’s and had pyromania tendencies. <br/>She would often set things on fire because she thought the fire looked like “pretty ladies dancing” and took a liking to the warmth it gave her, exhorting her to take an interest in cooking. <br/>Dorothylearned very early on to keep quiet about her illnesses and things that made her stand out, her “friends” and “family” encouraging her to be more ladylike. <br/>As of now, she resides in the Pentagram City’s Happy Hotel with her companions Husk and Alastor. This story will touch on before her death and will end once she makes a deal with Alastor and joins him and Husk in their deranged adventures.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Toto</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dorothy is not one for seeking out vengeance. Yet.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: blood, needles (sewing), screaming, pain, dark magic(?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>1935, on the hot summer’s day of July 27</span>
  <span>th </span>
  <span>in Kansas City, is when Dorothy Elizabeth Miller was born. Her face was flushed red, crying out as the doctors coddled her in a blanket after cleaning her off. She sniffled when she was handed to her mother, big honey brown eyes staring up at the smiling woman above her. She let out a soft noise that babies make- something like a ‘gaga’- and reached out a tiny hand to grab onto her mother’s figure, attempting to suck on it. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Ten years later, Dorothy found herself balancing on a high stool, dusting off the bookshelves of her home. She had to be careful or she might fall. And there she goes, her foot slipping and she finds herself unable to bring the other down quick enough to stop her from falling. A tome falls with her and the rusted lock holding it closed like a diary breaks open. The book lands on the floor before she does: opened up to a page with a strange sigil on it. In her attempt at stabilizing herself, she grabs onto the nearest thing- who the Hell left a knife here and why was its blade hanging off the side of a shelf? </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can process what’s happening, she grabs onto the blade and yelps when it cuts into her palm, letting go instinctively. The bloody knife topples down onto the floor and she lands face first on the floor. She manages to put her hands in front of her before she hits the ground but screeches as she feels the pressure from the sigil page under her bleeding palm. She tries to pull her hand away but finds there seems to be something keeping her hand there. She hisses in pain, why is the book burning her so? Finally, she topples back as her hand is let go and something warm catches her before she hits the ground again.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up, surprised, and then squeaks when she finds herself face to...head? With someone- something faceless. Its features and body are a charred black with a metallic purple sheen to it as it seems to stare down at her. Its shadowy head tilts and she’s picked up and set on the stool, sitting this time. She says nothing, holding the injured hand to her chest as she watches it dive back into the boo for a moment before coming out with a large sewing needle and a metallic thread. The little girl blinks, watching curiously as the thing threads the needle and takes her hand.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It takes her a moment before she realizes what it wants to do and she tries to pull away, “Oh, Heavens no! I don’t think-” she’s interrupted by her own little noise as her hand is pulled back and forced to stay open before the shadow man starts to sew her wound closed. It hurts a lot. Much more than regular thread might have, for he was using literal metal- somehow, he’s gotten a hold of a strand of straight-up metal. She tries to scream in pain but he reaches to cover her mouth. No need for the neighbors to hear. She was otherwise alone in the house, and he knew this, one way or another.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the wound had been painfully sewn shut, Dorothy was but a sobbing mess, clutching the stinging hand to her chest. “Why...?”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am helping you. It was more painful, but by tomorrow mooring you will be healed with no more than a little black mark in the middle of your palm. No one will notice. It is but a small price to pay for being healthy. Here, I will teach you how to clean off the blood on the book so that you may find peace. And we will restore the broken lock and everything will be ok.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Who are you, strange shadow man? You look like you’ve come out of a fire.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps I have, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the voice echoed in her very skull, </span>
  <em>
    <span>call me what you will. I will be here to help you on your journey from now on. To guide you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Toto, then.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hm?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>My name is Dorothy. We live in Kansas. The book I read not long ago- it had a little girl named Dorothy Gale. And her firs’ companion was a little black dog named Toto. And why not? You’re the right color. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re my first companion. So, I will call you Toto, if it is alright with you.”</span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Toto, it shall be, then, little Dorothy. Take my hand. You must get off that stool now so that we might clean up the mess you have made here...</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok.” Dorothy took the charred hand, it was hot- felt like over-cooked meat, and she wondered who this man was supposed to be. And how he had come to be as he was now.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As Dorothy grew older, she became more and more isolated from the world. Her friends- the ones that she knew were only her friends out of pity for her situation, would often speak about her when they thought she wasn’t there. But she heard. She heard them speak horrible, terrible things about her. She was ugly, insane, a fat-head... She curled up in bed and cried.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone thought now, it seemed, that she was mentally unstable. She’d tried so hard to hide it. But her best friend had seen her speak to Toto and she’d told Dorothy’s parents. Worried, they forced the young girl to go to the hospital, where they diagnosed her with schizophrenia. It was not severe, it seemed, so they let her go home that day. When she got there, she was angry. Angry with the world and with herself. She kicked and screamed and Toto exhorted her to take it out on them. </span>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fire. This house is made of mostly wood. Catch the books on fire and set them around the house. It will look </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> the dancing ladies you say you see in the flames. They will put on a show and calm you down.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As enticing as the offer was, Dorothy declined. She went directly to bed instead, afraid of hurting them. Toto said nothing else, only watching her sleep, tapping his burning claws against the window repeatedly.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just lil' notes for myself to warm up today</p></blockquote></div></div>
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